CHAPTER THREE : INFILTRATION

RAISA POV

“I want you.” He says. “You've got teeth.”

I freeze, smiling coldly “I bite.”

“I noticed.” He straightens and addresses the room. “Has anyone got a problem with her staying?”

A man to his right muttered, “Boss, we should…” Jaxon lifts his hand and silence snaps back into place. He continues to study my face, my stance, and the blood on my knuckles. Then he laughs out loud. No one dared to say a word.

“Does anyone want to go another round with her?” He asked but one moved. He scoffs, “pussy.” Jaxon turns back to me. “You want to work?”

“No, I'm just here for a drink.” I declined, which was my plan.

“Working for me can get you many of those.” He steps closer, his voice lower than only I can hear. “And protection.”

“I don't need it.”

He grins, as if like finds me amusing. “Everyone does.”

Midnight slams against the binding, a violent surge runs through me, making my vision blur. I clamp it down, breathing through it. Jaxon watches me, his eyes narrowing like he felt what I had felt.

“Interesting.” He murmurs. He reaches out and taps the Blackthorn patch on his chest. “You fight for me now.”

I square my shoulder, “I don’t fight for free, dickhead.” The room exploded with whispers.

“You won't be.” His gaze sharpened. “And you won't leave.”

I looked past him to the men who wore the skulls of werewolves. My hands curl.

“Fine,” I say. “I can stay…for now.”

Jaxon leans in, his breath warm against my ear, his voice sounding like a promise and a threat.

“You belong to Blackthorn now.”

Midnight snarls inside.

The words land heavily but I don’t flinch.

“Try and cage me,” I say, flat. “See how long it lasts.”

Jaxon’s grin sharpens. “I like you already.”

He snaps his fingers. “Clear the bar. Patch the wounded and drag the dead out.”

The room moves instantly. There was no arguing or hesitation. Bodies were carried out, blood was smeared, and glass was kicked aside. Within seconds the chaos turns into order. That alone tells me what kind of man he is.

He gestures with his chin. “You. With me.”

I follow because refusing would be stupid.

He leads me through a door behind the bar, down a narrow corridor. Two guards follow behind us. My senses were on high alert. I counted exits, steps, and even each heartbeat I could hear.

Midnight was restless, pressing against the binding like a blade against skin.

We enter a back room with a bare table, a weapons rack, and maps pinned to the wall.

“Sit,” Jaxon says.

I don’t.

He raises a brow. “Testing me?”

“Always.”

He laughs once. “Good.” He tosses a towel at my chest. “Clean up.”

I wipe the blood from my knuckles, my jaw. He watches the whole time.

I keep my spine straight and my mouth shut while I scrub dried blood from my skin.

Jaxon circles the room once, his boots slow and deliberate like a predator pacing. He stops by the weapons rack, fingers brushing over steel like he is counting options.

“You fight like someone who has lost something,” he says casually. “That kind of anger doesn’t come from bars.”

I didn't answer. Silence is safer than lies.

He turns, eyes sharp. “What’s that name again?”

“Raisa,” I say, still leaving out my last name.

He nods like that’s enough or like he already knows more. “You came in alone, picked on my guys, and didn’t hesitate to put two down. You didn’t even check the room first.” he paused. “Either you’re stupid or you are hunting for something.”

“Hunting drinks and having a good time. Is that forbidden in your bar?” I asked

His mouth twitches. “Still testing me.”

“Always.”

He laughs again, short and sharp. Then his gaze hardens. “Here’s how this works, Raisa. You don’t fight for free, and I don’t keep liabilities. You want to stay breathing under my roof, you earn it.”

Midnight slams against the binding chains again, furiously. My vision flickers silver at the edges. I bite down hard enough to taste blood, forcing it back. The binding burns like a brand around my soul, a constant ache I chose over losing control.

Jaxon notices. “There it is again,” he murmurs. “That look.”

I meet his eyes, daring him to push.

Instead, he reaches under the table and pulls out a Blackthorn cut leather vest, with a skull patch stitched over the heart. He drops it onto the table between us.

“You don’t just wear it yet,” he says. “You have to earn it.”

“By doing what?” I ask.

He steps closer, voice dropping. “By bleeding for me. Same as everyone else.”

The door behind us opens. One of the guards leans in. “Boss….the scouts are back.”

“Good.” Jaxon doesn’t look away from me. “Perfect timing.”

He gestures to the wall map. I followed him. The territory is marked in grease pencil. There were roads, fuel stops, and safe houses. Then I see it.

Moonstone….looking closer—it was Moonveil, my pack.

My chest tightens so fast I almost choke.

It’s circled with a red marker. It had been crossed through like a target that had already been hit.

Jaxon watches my reflection through the glass on the map. “You know that place?”

“No,” I say immediately, covering up any emotions I might have.

He hums. “Shame. Because we’re heading there tonight.”

The room tilts. Moonveil forest or what’s left of it. Ash and bones and ghosts. This was my pack and family.

And these are the men who killed them.

Jaxon turns, satisfaction gleaming in his eyes. “There’s a shipment moving through the old logging road. Rumor says it’s protected.” He pauses. “By something else.”

My pulse thunders. Midnight goes eerily still.

“People talk,” he continues. “They say things have been stalking the woods and tearing men apart. Skulls cracked open like fruit.” He smiles thinly. “Sounds fun.”

“You want me there, why?” I ask.

“Yes, you don't look like someone who is scared easily,” he says.

Ice slides down my spine.

He steps closer, close enough that I can smell oil and smoke and old blood on him. “You walk into that point,” he says softly. “And show me how brave you are.”

“And if I say no?”

His hand snaps out, fast as a strike, gripping my chin. Not hard but firm enough to remind me who holds power here.

“You don’t,” he says. “Because if you leave this room, my men will tear you apart. And if you stay…” His eyes gleam. “You might just be spared." He releases me and turns away. “Gear up. Wheels roll in ten.”

As he reaches the door, he stops but doesn't turn.

“Oh, Raisa?” he adds lightly. “If you are what I think you are…”

The room goes quiet.

“…this will be interesting.”

The door shuts.

Midnight bares her teeth inside me, feral and hungry. And for the first time since the fire, since the screams, I smile.